Through Agony and Ecstacy
by TheQueenofBooks1000
Summary: A series of oneshots depicting the life of our beloved Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, along with all the people that matter the most to them. Stories vary from humor to angst, although there will always be romance.
1. Least Expected

**New story! This is a series of oneshots containing various events of the characters' lives (mostly the Darcys'). Most of them are unrelated to each other, and it is also not in any chronological order whatsoever. Read up, and do enjoy! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN. **

* * *

_~Least Expected~_

_"He [Mr. Bennet] delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected..." _-Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice, _Chapter 61.

* * *

During an entire morning filled with yells, tears, and frantic servants scurrying about the halls of Pemberley, Mr. Bennet had the marvelous idea of an unannounced visit.

Of the events at his daughter's abode he was completely unaware; all he knew was that he missed his Lizzy rather terribly, and was also looking forward to an audience with his son-in-law, and perhaps an afternoon of fishing. He sent for his carriage, and in no time, he was headed straight to Pemberley Woods.

The traffic was considerably light, and there were hardly any complications in the way. It had not been three hours when the horses pulled to a stop, and his footman was helping him off the carriage.

"Mr. Bennet." Rogers the stablehand greeted him with a shallow bow. Curiously, he had a feminine bonnet perched on his head. His forehead was creased with worry, and his mouth was set in a grim line. The sight of his grave demeanor contrasting with his little bonnet was so absurd that it almost made him laugh out loud.

Mr. Bennet returned the bow. "Why, you seem to be in good humor today," he teased, "or at least that is what I can gather from your bonnet!"

Rogers flushed in embarrassment and quickly rid himself of the bonnet. "Forgive my appearance, sir. It is just that certain events of today had left a lot of us in a daze." He lowered his voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had been quarreling for hours. We fear that it might be a serious matter."

"I see." Although Mr. Bennet's amusement did not completely disappear, it did subside. "Thank you, Rogers. I will investigate the subject on my own."

Upon entrance to the house, he could hear the faint voice of his daughter arguing with Darcy in some room. He hoped that it was not too serious.

He was escorted to the drawing room, where he was greeted by the Darcys' housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds. "Good day, Mr. Bennet." By now, she was used to his spontaneous visits to her master's estate, therefore seeing the father of her mistress brought little surprise.

The gentleman smiled at her. "Good day. May I inquire after Mr. and Mrs. Darcy?"

"If I were to be frank, sir," she began, "they are not in any condition to accommodate any guests, so if you will be so kind, sir..."

"I am aware," he reassured her. "I will stay here for the time being, if that is alright."

She curtsied. "By all means, Mr. Bennet. Would you care for some refreshments?"

* * *

The library (where Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had chosen to remain until all the matters were settled) had become very quiet, indeed. Servants looked on curiously at the locked door, behind which was a clamorous quarrel took place only mere hours before.

They were, of course, alerted by Mr. Bennet's arrival, although they did not seem to be disturbed by it, for they carried on arguing as if their lives sorely depended on it.

And now, it was quiet. Unusually so. No one knew what became of Elizabeth or Darcy.

Mr. Bennet decided that he had enough of this nonsense. This day had not been going as he had planned, and though Mrs. Reynolds had been a good hostess, there was not much they could talk about. He finished the last drops of his port with a hearty gulp and stood, rather unsteadily, for he did drank a bit too much with lack of anything better to do. "If you will excuse me, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Of course, sir."

The gentleman decided to seek the place where his daughter and son-in-law were located without any assistance from anyone. He listened carefully for sounds behind the doors. Surely they were not far. After all, he was certain that he had heard his daughter's voice from the eastern part of the estate.

Turning his head, he caught a sound from the library. He was familiar with which door to choose, for the library was where he mostly spent his time during his visits. He thought about knocking, but decided against it, for, if they were in need of his counsel, he was certain that they would not welcome it easily.

He turned the knob.

* * *

Elizabeth was blinded with the ecstasy that was her husband's exploring hands. She rested her hands on his chest and said breathlessly, "William, we mustn't. What if we are to be discovered? My father..."

He silenced her with a demanding kiss. When he had come up for air, he whispered huskily, "My love, it is hardly of any consequence if we are discovered, as we are married. And it is unlikely that anyone will bother us. The servants are smart enough to know that we need to be left alone." And with that, he pressed his lips hungrily against hers.

The tumultuous circumstances that had led to Elizabeth's arms around her husband's neck, Darcy's hand exploring every nook and cranny of her entire being, and the two of them sprawled on an armchair that was clearly not big enough for the two of them was indeed very unusual. First, they were arguing about the mundane matters that neither of them had the presence of mind to recall (for both of them were nearly dumb with bliss at the feel of each other), and then Elizabeth's passionate declarations and the fierceness of her lovely eyes became too overwhelming for Darcy, ergo their scandalous position in the Pemberley library.

A surprised exclamation caused the couple to desist from their pleasurable activities completely.

On the doorway stood Mr. Bennet, his face completely white and his eyes wide as saucers. His jaw nearly brushed the cold marble floor, and he could only stare in mortification at his daughter and Mr. Darcy, her only attired in her chemise, and he informally presented in a white cotton shirt and breeches. Elizabeth's dress was thrown carelessly on the floor, the garments pooling with Mr. Darcy's cravat and waistcoat.

"Papa!" Elizabeth cried in horror. She tried to untangle herself from her husband, failed miserably, and before they knew it, they both landed on the floor with a painful crash. When one of them would make an effort to stand, they would trip over the tangle of fabric and limbs, and end up once again on the ground.

"Papa, this is not what it—"

"Sir, I can explain—"

Wordlessly, Mr. Bennet slammed the door shut. Convulsions ran all over his body, and it was a struggle to reach the end of the hall. When he did, he called for his carriage, and, in doing so, almost collided with Colonel Fitzwilliam on his way out.

Apparently, Mr. Bennet was not the only one who had a passion for unwarranted visitations!

"Sir," Mr. Bennet said gravely to the colonel, "whatever you do, do _not _go to the library." And with that, he fled and practically launched himself inside his carriage.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was baffled. Slowly, his gaze turned to the aforementioned chamber. _What's old Darcy up to, _he wondered.

Disregarding the advice of the older man, Darcy's cousin headed straight for the library.

* * *

**Looks like good old Mr. Bennet won't be visiting anytime soon, eh? Please review!**


	2. Mother Dearest

**I'm sorry for the error last chapter! Seriously, I can't believe that I forgot that Longbourn to Pemberley is a two day trip. Whoops. I guess I should edit that out...**

**This one is sadder than the first, so beware.**

**DISCLAIMER: IF I OWNED PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, I WOULD BE REALLY, REALLY HAPPY. ALAS, JANE AUSTEN ALONE POSSESSES THE BRILLIANT WRITING SKILLS.**

* * *

_~Mother Dearest~_

* * *

When Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy announced that she was with child, Mr. Darcy's heart seemed to have ceased beating. He had paled, his form was flooded with sweat, and his face was marred with worried creases—worry of what, he knew not. After all, his wife had just informed him, with an expression of pure delight, that he was to be a father. He should have felt overjoyed. His dearest Lizzy was carrying their child, the fruit of their love, the heir to Pemberley. Yet he felt nothing but trepidation.

Elizabeth's joyful smile faded when he failed to respond, other than a slight nod of the head. First, she inquired if he felt well, to which he answered noncommittally. She demanded that he talk to her, to tell her what was troubling him. The indifference that he displayed shocked her. He had not talked to her in such an abhorrent manner ever since he had sworn his everlasting love for her in front of the altar. The combined turmoil of early pregnancy and his behavior was too much for her, and she quit the room in tears.

As quarrels between those of the married often do, theirs dissipated eventually, although it took much to mend, and several sleepless nights retiring in separate chambers. It was fortunate that during that period, Mrs. Darcy's pleasant disposition prevented her from complete abandon of herself, for she was firm to take care as to not harm their child. Darcy tried harder to express joy, and he did succeed. His distaste for deception proved to make it exceedingly difficult for the gentleman, but he could only look at his wife, aglow with the happiness brought by their child, and the heaviness in his heart lightened.

It did not, however, completely disappear.

For even as he watched his darling Elizabeth exclaim over the garments that Mrs. Reynolds had knitted for the child, even as he observed her countenance being lit with a lovely smile, even when he could hear her laugh from miles and miles away, he could not shake the feeling that something was not right.

He wanted a child just as much as Lizzy did, of course. He longed for a child, perhaps a son, a little being that he would protect with all his life. He cannot comprehend his emotions, but they filled him, they would would rouse him from slumber late in the night drenched with cold sweat, with the dreadful images—images of what, he can never recall—still planted in his mind.

He would turn on his bed and there was his Lizzy, sleeping peacefully, her curls cascading her pillows like a dark waterfall, a warm bump pronouncing impending motherhood. He would cling to her and weep, with hopes that all of the demons that he was facing would flee from their home, and he would kiss her womb, where their son or daughter also slept, muttering reassurances of love and affection for them both.

Elizabeth, who was happily ignorant of this, had always asked him why he was unable to sleep. He knew not how to answer her.

A few months passed on, and the mistress of Pemberley was about to give birth.

It happened on the darkest hour of the night, and candles blazed in every corner of the room where Elizabeth lay on a bed, her chest heaving, sweat dripping from her face. Jane Bingley, who had hitherto been watching over her own daughters, stood by her sister's side, doing everything in her power to make it better for her. On the foot of her bed was the Darcys' family physician, along with the midwife.

Several rooms away, Darcy paced back and forth. Mrs. Reynolds sat on one of the armchairs, taking care of Jane's twin daughters, who were both a year old. Both of them looked like Elizabeth. For the first time in quite some time, Darcy smiled, picturing his life with a miniature version of Elizabeth. It would be wonderful!

An agonized scream sliced through his reverie.

Time stopped.

Where had he heard that sound before?

The scream was repeated, again and again. His Mrs. Darcy was desperately trying to preserve both the life of the baby and hers, along with the future happiness of their family.

_"Hello, Master Fitzwilliam," a younger Mrs. Reynolds said, a sad smile on her face. On her arms, she carried a small bundle._

_Darcy, who was at the time twelve years of age, peered curiously at the tiny form ensconced by the blankets. Eyes bright as sapphire blinked back at him. He watched in fascination as his new sister yawned and fell into a deep slumber. He was so enchanted with the baby that he failed to notice tears flowing from the housekeeper's eyes._

_Not lifting his eyes, William asked, "What does Mama call her?"_

_Mrs. Reynolds's breath caught, and she was barely able to choke back a sob as she whispered, "Her name is Georgiana Anne Darcy."_

_Eagerly, Darcy inquired, "May I see my mother now?" and was caught off-guard by the sobs that wracked Mrs. Reynolds's body._

_"What is wrong?" he asked._

_"She is gone, young master William. Lady Anne has passed from this world."_

_The world seemed to collapse on him right then. He did not see Mrs. Reynolds, he did not see Georgiana. All he saw was his mother, embracing him, singing quiet songs to help him sleep, comforting him..._

_He did not remember reaching his mother's chambers. But he was suddenly there, and his mother lay on her bed..._

Mr. Darcy did not think, he simply acted. He ran outside, pushed past the servant standing outside the door, and burst into Elizabeth's room.

Now he knew what was bothering him all those months.

"Sir, you cannot be here," the physician said, averting his eyes.

"How is she?" Darcy asked anxiously.

"She is having a difficult delivery, Mr. Darcy. Now, it is improper for you to be—"

Elizabeth's broken voice cried out. "Where is William? Is that him? I need him here!"

Her tension eased when she saw him there, looking at her with love and concern in his eyes. "William..." she whispered.

"You can do this, Lizzy," he encouraged, pleased that his voice did not waver.

Jane, who was looking very pale, allowed him to take her place beside Elizabeth. He held her hand and he felt her pain as she pushed with all her might.

It was not enough.

Hours passed, and he stayed faithfully by her side, not stopping to eat or sleep. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, watching as pain flashed through her features, running his hand soothingly through her hair.

It continued in this vein until a small cry interrupted the grave silence of the room.

Elizabeth's grip loosened. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a ghost of a smile graced her face. Weakly, she whispered, "We succeeded..."

"Thank you, my love," Darcy whispered, watching as the midwife cradled his child—_their _child—in her arms and gently placed the form in his.

All of a sudden, all those months that brought him nothing but worry seemed to have been worth it when he looked at his new daughter in her lively brown eyes that resembles Elizabeth's so closely.

* * *

**You know, I was actually considering to kill Elizabeth off, but now I'm kind of glad that I didn't. I hope you guys enjoyed this. Please review. :)**


	3. A Malady

**Thank you for all the lovely comments, favorites, and follows! I'm glad that most of you are enjoying this story, hopefully as much as I enjoy writing it.**

**To make up for the last chapter, this one is extremely fluffy and cheesy. You have been warned.**

**DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT JANE AUSTEN AND I DON'T OWN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.**

* * *

Mr. Darcy sneezed.

He stared miserably out the window of his library, his labored breath steaming the glass. On his one hand was a book, which had been on the fifty-third page for the last ten minutes, and on the other was a dampened handkerchief. In the hearth, a bright fire blazed, yet it could not overcome the chill in the room, a cold which he felt from the tip of his head to his toes.

Suddenly, a spell so strong came over him, and before he had time to raise his handkerchief to his face, he had sneezed on the windowpane. _A perfect gentleman, indeed! _he thought with no small amount of distaste. He pulled another handkerchief from his waistcoat and wiped the window as best as he could. _If the ladies at the ton could see me now, _he thought wryly.

A small chuckle escaped his lips, but it quickly turned into a cough. Elizabeth happened to pass by, cradling their daughter Jane, who was not a year old, in her arms. She peered at the room which he occupied and called out, "William, is that you?"

"I am here, my love," Darcy groaned. He felt cold sweat dripping from his forehead. Noting the grim look on his countenance, Mrs. Darcy swiftly entered the room. She looked at her daughter and whispered loudly, "Your papa is not feeling well today, poppet. Do you think you can offer an effective remedy?"

"Papa?" the little girl warbled, staring at her father with wide eyes. Jane Georgiana Darcy was graced with Mr. Darcy's handsome features, and inherited her Aunt Bingley's golden locks, but her dark eyes, which resembled Lizzy's closely, with the same curiosity and intelligence that sparkled in her mother's eyes, were what Darcy believed to be her best feature.

Darcy smiled, but said, in a hoarse voice, "Lizzy, please get her away from here. I am rather ill, and I would not want her to catch whatever malady I have." His point was emphasized with a fit of coughs, and concluded with a sneeze on his sleeve.

"Oh, dear," Elizabeth said, concerned. "Should I send for the doctor?"

"O dee," Jane repeated, looking alarmed.

Her parents laughed affectionately, and Darcy felt his mood ease somewhat. He grinned cheekily at his wife. "No medical attention would be necessary, my dear lady, but perhaps _yours _would do me some good."

Elizabeth smiled at him playfully. "Why don't I put our little Janey in the nursery, and I shall see what I can do to cure your malady." She winked at him teasingly and told Jane, "Say good-bye to your father, darling."

Darcy blew a kiss at his daughter, who giggled at him in return.

* * *

Once Jane was left under the care of Mrs. Reynolds, Elizabeth returned to the library carrying a tray with her hands. A small pouch was wound around her wrist, and a pillow was tucked in the crook of her arm.

Darcy smiled at the thoughtfulness of her gesture. "Thank you, Lizzy." He reached for the soup bowl, but Elizabeth quickly halted his motions. She shook her head at him in mock disapproval, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "Oh, there shall be none of that, sir," she said. "_I _am responsible of you now, and any contradictory thing you say will be for naught." And with that, she stretched him out on the sofa and fluffed a pillow behind his head.

Darcy watched in amusement as Elizabeth scurried about the room, throwing the curtains open and tossing more firewood in the hearth.

She pulled an armchair next to his sofa and sat in a ridiculously stiff manner, a sort of tribute to their family doctor who carried himself thus. "Now, Mr. Darcy, tell me of your symptoms. Do you feel pain?"

"It is rapidly decreasing as you speak, dearest," he said, looking at her with adoration and amusement.

"Shocking!" Elizabeth clicked her tongue to thwart the laughter bubbling within her. "You will refer to me as Doctor Darcy, sir!"

Darcy grinned. "Of course, Doctor Darcy."

"Very good. If we continue in this manner, you will be in excellent health very soon, indeed."

"Only if the proper remedy is given," he answered, suggestively eyeing her rosy lips.

His lady pretended not to notice, although his attentions caused a delighted shiver to course through her body. "Of course! No one has ever questioned _my _treatments, as they have been curing people from all over the continent!"

"I trust that no one else had received the treatments that you shall perform on my _body?"_ Darcy inquired innocently.

Elizabeth smiled at him saucily. "Now, sir, surely you of all people must know that a physician never reveals her secrets!" She tapped her forehead. "To lessen the competition, you see. But I assure you that nobody else will _ever _know of the things I shall do yo you..." She lowered her lips to his ear, making his breath hitch, "...if you will reward me handsomely. Do you agree to my terms?" He assured her the affirmative. Her eyes gleamed. "Now, I believe that you will need to eat."

The soup was still warm. She brought the spoon filled with creamy liquid to her mouth and blew on it to cool it down. She emptied its contents into Darcy's parted lips, never once breaking eye contact. Soup dripped on the side of his mouth and Elizabeth used her fingers to wipe it off. He caught her delicate fingertips with his lips and savored both the flavor of the dish and the sensation of her soft touch.

"Excellent," he whispered.

After that, she retrieved the teapot and fixed him a cup laden with fresh herbs that will guarantee a quick recovery, as Mrs. Reynolds had informed her. As Darcy finished his drink (which was a tad spicy for his taste), he enjoyed Elizabeth's lively voice reading Shakespeare's sonnets.

Elizabeth glanced at him, and was pleased to see that his face was now graced with a becoming flush, as opposed to the ashen color it held earlier, and his eyes were once more bright. She did not remember a single sneeze nor cough escape him during the time they spent together.

"You are now cured," Elizabeth declared. "And because of that, I no longer see the use of remaining Doctor Darcy, any longer." She rested herself in his waiting arms and planted a kiss on his warm chest. She gazed at him with a radiant smile. "I am once again your docile Mrs. Darcy."

Darcy threw his head back and laughed. "Docile? Hardly!" He lifted her chin to meet his eyes, and he bestowed a sweet kiss all over her face, and finally landed a lingering one on her lips. "However, as fond as I was of Doctor Darcy, I am happy to have my beloved Mrs. Darcy back."_  
_

"Indeed?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. He loved it when she did that. "Pray, explain your preference to Mrs. Darcy over Doctor Darcy, who, if I remember correctly, took excellent care of you. As opposed to _your _Mrs. Darcy, who does nothing but tease you incessantly!"

"Well," Darcy said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "I cannot say why, exactly. Perhaps because with Mrs. Darcy, I can do this," and proceeded to all but ravish his wife in the library.

When they paused their activities, Elizabeth purred, "Now, if _I _remember correctly, I was promised a handsome reward as a compensation for my efforts to heal you." Her exploring fingers took a southward course and she looked at her husband with a determined look in her eye. "I demand to be satisfied."

Darcy shook his head. "Unfortunately, that reward was promised to _Doctor _Darcy, not Mrs. Darcy," he teased. "So I cannot give you anything, my love."

"You are incorrigible!" Elizabeth exclaimed, laughing heartily. "No matter, I shall have my own way soon enough."

And she did, indeed!

* * *

**I'm going to be awfully selfish and ask you guys to tell me what you think. I hope you liked this chapter, and thanks for reading! :)**


End file.
